Friendly Wager
by JamesLuver
Summary: It was a war that had dragged on for months, and would probably never have a ceasefire. With his military background, John was quite the soldier. But, Anna had discovered, she could be quite the sergeant too. She would never concede defeat as long as there was air in her lungs. It was the loveliest of wars, one that she was more than happy to do battle in.


**A/N:** This is a little birthday fic for the lovely **Kristen APA**. I hope you have had a good day, and thank you for all you do for our little community! :)

Based on the following prompt found at OTP Prompts: _Imagine your OTP arguing over which person's cute looks their child got their cute looks from_. There are a couple of angsty paragraphs towards the end, but mostly it's just your standard stuff.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

 _Friendly Wager_

It was a war that had dragged on for months, and would probably never have a ceasefire. With his military background, John was quite the soldier, never one to give up on a cause or to abandon his maxims, a fearless, noble warrior whom she loved more and more every day. But, Anna had discovered, she could be quite the sergeant too, and certainly in this matter. She would never concede defeat as long as there was air in her lungs.

It was the loveliest of wars, one that she was more than happy to do battle in.

She looked on now, as John sat with their son on the bed. Jack was astride one of John's thighs, and John had his arm wrapped tight around the little boy's round tummy, holding him steadily in place while he propped a book open with his spare hand, bringing the story to life. Jack probably wasn't paying much attention—at just over six months old, he wasn't quite ready to be a scholar—but John seemed to enjoy it nevertheless. He could pick all sorts up at that age, he argued. Who was Anna to dispute that, when she loved to see father and son together? She got a lot of enjoyment out of it herself, too, hearing her usually so composed husband putting on a multitude of different voices to bring each individual character to life whenever he read a novel.

She took her time getting changed for bed, knowing that John was keeping Jack occupied so well, and prolonged it just a little longer, selfishly, so she could carry on enjoying the two men in her life together. A novel wasn't on the cards tonight. Tonight was poetry, which did not require a change in character. Bored with the words, Jack reached out to grab the book, burbling all the while. John was having quite the time keeping all the pages intact. He sighed dramatically, at last tossing the book to one side, much to Jack's dismay.

"I don't think he's in the right frame of mind to appreciate Yeats this evening," he said.

"I don't think he's going to be old enough to appreciate Yeats for quite some time yet. And I hope you weren't reading him anything unsuitable for little ears. What was wrong with some Doctor Dolittle?"

"You're the one always telling me that he's too young to understand a word I'm reading him. And that book's downstairs in the kitchen. This was the nearest thing I had to hand. Still, I shouldn't be too surprised. He's his mother's son. I shouldn't have expected him to fully appreciate Yeats' poetic genius. You don't."

"That's because he's so mournful. No one can be that mournful _all_ of the time." And there it was again, the comment that would reignite the battle that had been dormant for the past week. "And he's _your_ son. Where do you think he gets those long periods of quiet from? I'm quite sure I've never seen a baby suck his thumb with that level of concentration before."

John huffed, but there was a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry, Anna, but it's as plain as day. This little chap takes after his mummy. Why do you think he's able to pull in all the ladies? He doesn't get his good looks from _me_."

And there was the first bullet.

Anna finished tying off the end of her braid, crawling onto the bed beside her husband and son. Jack turned huge blue eyes on her, squealing when he saw her and reaching out his pudgy little arms. John relinquished his hold and Anna swept him up at once, bringing him up to her neck so that she could breathe in the clean baby smell.

"You only say that because he's got the obvious traits," she said, referring to those big blue eyes and stroking her fingers through the blond hair that fuzzed the top of his head. It was a little bit curly, much to her endearment and John's bemusement. "The rest is definitely all you. Look, he has your nose. And your mouth."

"The nose is certainly not mine. It's as cute as a button. Which is like _yours_. _Perhaps_ I'll concede the mouth, but look at the shape of his eyes. Yours again."

"He's built like a Bates," she argued good-naturedly. "Weighs a bleedin' tonne. He'll be eating us out of house and home before too long."

"Bates men are always large," John said with a shrug. "I don't remember much of my father, but I know he was an imposing figure. And my mother told me that my paternal grandfather was just the same. So I would have expected nothing less. Besides, that hardly counts. How does a boy's build have anything to do with the way he looks? Concede defeat, love."

"No," she said stubbornly. "That's not my way."

He chuckled, reaching over to tuck wisps of hair that hadn't fit into her braid behind her ear. "Don't I know it." As she raised his eyebrow at him, he was quick to add, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Smirking to herself, Anna shuffled to the end of the bed. "Right, I think it's time I put this one down. Say goodnight."

"Goodnight," John murmured, leaning across to press a kiss into Jack's soft tufts of hair. "And good luck. He looks far too awake to want to sleep any time soon."

The statement, unfortunately, seemed to be more like a prediction; Jack giggled as if in agreement, his chubby little legs pinwheeling in the air.

Anna sighed. "I knew you shouldn't have read Yeats to him. You didn't bore him to sleep, you just made him more excited."

"I knew it would be my fault," John teased. "You complain that he's too excitable when I read to him in silly voices. I can't win. Do you want me to try to put him down instead?"

"No, it's fine. You get in bed. You've had a long enough day as it is. I won't be long, I hope."

John nodded, and she left him picking up his book again. They'd moved Jack into the other room only a few days before, deeming him big enough to have a room for himself. It had been an awful wrench to the both of them to see him leaving their room behind, but they needed some privacy of their own, too, and Jack had taken to waking in the middle of the night and sitting in his cot quite happily smacking his hands against the wooden bars. It was disconcerting enough when they were sleeping, never mind if they had their minds on other activities. Their son didn't seem to mind. He was sleeping through the night a lot better now, and rarely cried to wake them. She kept the door open so that she'd be able to hear him if he did need them, but he seemed perfectly happy with this new arrangement. It benefitted everyone.

Setting him down in his crib, she watched as Jack flopped onto his back with a laugh, kicking his arms and legs in the air. She beamed down at him, resting her hand against the roundness of his stomach. Greedy wasn't the word. She had a feeling that he'd be guzzling milk at her breast all day if she let him. She reached for the blanket, a leaving present from their friends at Downton, intricately stitched with all manner of exotic wild animals, and pulled it tight around him.

"Come on, Jack, it's sleepy time now," she coaxed. "Mummy wants to go to bed too. Be a good boy for Mummy, eh?"

Jack squealed in reply.

Anna sighed, still unable to hide her smile. He was such a happy, energetic baby. Neither of them could love him more, living to make sure he was safe and well. Even on the days when they were all tired and snappish, by the end of it Anna couldn't fail to take a deep breath, stand back, and appreciate what she had. It had been such a long journey to get here, filled with heartache and anguish, and no matter how tiring the days got, she would never not appreciate all that they had won in the end.

It seemed that Jack would take a little time to settle, so she began to rub his tummy in a soothing circle, softly singing an almost-forgotten lullaby from her own childhood as she tried to get him to settle. It took a few minutes, but eventually Jack's eyelids started to droop, his limbs twitching with less energy than they'd had before. Sensing her victory, Anna continued on, triumphant when at last Jack stilled. She stopped singing and removed her hand, but she remained standing right where she was for a few minutes more, simply drinking in the wonder of him. How beautiful he was. She supposed all mothers must feel that way about their babies, but Jack really was. Those sweet blonde curls and those huge blue eyes instantly enamoured him to anyone they met. His cheeks were round and rosy. Thick limbs that seemed to make women fall instantly in love and men nod approvingly over how strapping he was. His mouth had the same sweet shape that John's did, and his nose was strong. How could John look at his son and _not_ see himself in him? There was nothing more obvious in the whole world as far as she was concerned.

Anna lingered for a little longer, simply admiring what she had helped to create, before the call of warm bed sheets and her husband's arms became too enticing to resist. Leaning over the bars, she feathered a kiss over Jack's forehead and slipped away.

John was still sitting up in bed when she arrived back in their room, lamp lit and book in hand. He lowered it when she crossed the threshold.

"He's settled?" he asked.

"He is. Fast asleep." Anna pulled the covers back on her side of the bed, snuggling down beside him. John placed his book on the bedside cabinet and turned the lamp off. There were a few seconds of shuffling as they found their customary positions to sleep in, she tucked into the circle of his arms with her back snug to his front. He pressed a kiss to her neck. For a few moments, there was silence.

Anna was the one to break it. "I was looking at Jack while he was sleeping, you know. And I don't know how you don't see it. He is the spitting image of you."

John chuckled. "Not this again. Can't we call a truce for one night?"

"No," she said stubbornly. "Not until you admit I'm right."

"I'm sorry, darling, it's just not going to happen," he said. "You have to be wrong _sometimes_ , you know."

Anna frowned into the darkness. He was always so self-deprecating, unable to see the goodness of himself in the son he had fathered. He was as stubborn as she was when it came to such matters. It saddened her to think that he would rather see their son as a copy of her rather than be proud of seeing himself reflected back at him. She, for her selfishness, was glad that Jack possessed _some_ of herfeatures. A perfect mix was all the sweeter.

"I have an idea," she said.

"Oh no," John said good-naturedly. "Last time you had an idea, I had to walk dear old Mrs. Scott home and she invited me to tea every day that week." He dug his fingers playfully into her side. "And you weren't even the slightest bit jealous that your husband's attentions had wandered elsewhere."

Anna giggled. "Yes, because Mrs. Scott has got to be as old as the dowager."

"She made a wonderful chocolate cake, though. I have to say, I was tempted."

She elbowed him in the stomach, pleased at his huff. "Silly beggar. I hope you remember your wife and son when the next pretty young woman walks by you, if you can be so easily persuaded."

"Hmm…it might be difficult, but I think I have a strong enough will," he murmured, between kisses that he ran over her shoulders.

She squirmed away from him, eager to get back to the topic at hand. The last thing she needed was to get distracted. And John Bates could be _very_ distracting when he wanted to be. "Anyway, I was saying. My idea."

"Do tell," he said, snagging her hips and pulling her back to him. Thankfully, he didn't seem intent on pursuing his seduction. She was glad; conversation would have been the last thing on her mind. She found his hand and rested hers on top of it, where it lay flush to her stomach.

"I think we should have a little friendly wager."

She could hear the frown in his voice. "A friendly wager? About what?"

"About our son."

"I don't understand. You want us to use our son as bait? For _what_?"

"You might find out if you stop interrupting every two seconds. And of course I don't want to use him like that. Or, at least not in that way. But I do want to prove a point to you."

"And that point is…?"

"That our son looks like his handsome daddy."

"And you're going to do that how when we have warring opinions?"

She smiled into the darkness. "By asking impartial judges, of course. Tomorrow, we're going to ask the people we work with just who they think Jack looks most like."

"You can't be serious," John groaned.

"Oh, I am very serious, John. Just you wait until tomorrow. I'll gladly take your terms of surrender whenever you're ready to give them," she said.

This final battle was long overdue. And it would be the most satisfying victory of all.

* * *

The next morning, Anna woke with an added determination. She pushed the covers back and wriggled out of John's arms, cheerfully ignoring his grumbles.

"Come on, Mr. Bates, get up," she said. "Big day ahead of us today."

John lifted his head enough to crack open one eye, peering blearily at the clock. He groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow. "We don't have to be up for another hour. Jack hasn't woken us. Usually I can't pry you out of bed."

"And usually I can't keep you in it," she retorted, lowering her voice saucily. "Unless it's for certain…activities, of course."

His look of embarrassment was charming, and she giggled as she pulled her nightgown clean over her head and padded round the room naked. He was certainly looking at her now, and she added an extra sway in her hips to tease him as she reached up on her tiptoes to pull her clothes from the wardrobe.

"You are a temptress," he murmured thickly.

"And we have a great deal of work to do. I'll be coming into work with you early today."

"Is that necessary?" John sounded surprised. She usually took care of various tasks around the cottage and saw to Jack before joining him at just before eleven. John took Jack while she went round the rooms making everything perfect, and she usually took him back after lunch so that he could tackle any issues that might have arisen. It meant that John did not miss out on any quality time with his son, and they could dip in and out of each other's pockets whenever they felt like it. It was a much better arrangement than a servant's life was.

"Very," she said. "Now, I'm going to start breakfast. I expect you downstairs in twenty minutes sharp, Mr. Bates."

She flounced out of the room then, John's baffled chuckles ringing in her ears.

* * *

As soon as Jack had been fed and changed, their son crying out not long after Anna had sat down to a bowl of warm porridge, they made their way across to the hotel.

"I wish you'd just forget about this silly notion," John murmured as they moved through the doors. "Can't we just agree to disagree?"

Anna scowled up at him. "It's not a silly notion. And no, we can't. I can agree to disagree with you about the merits of baths versus showers, or the capabilities of Yeats as a writer, but I absolutely refuse to agree to disagree with you on the matter of our son. Besides, I like proving you wrong too much."

"Almost too much," he said with a fond smile. He turned to Jack, who was gumming his fist and staring solemnly at him. "First life lesson, Jack. Don't even try and argue with Mummy. You'll never win."

"Second life lesson, Daddy can be very infuriating at times," she returned without missing a beat, flashing him a cheeky smile.

He laughed, shaking his head. "So, where does this madness begin?"

"Down in the kitchen. Mrs. Howard will have sent breakfast up for the guests. It won't take long. We'll see how she is and then pop our heads in on the guests."

John shrugged, resignation written into his face. "Very well, love. Whatever you say."

* * *

Mrs. Howard was in the midst of washing her pots when they ducked into the kitchen. Anna liked her. She was around John's age, widowed and left childless by the war, but still one of the kindest people that she had ever come across. She'd been between jobs when she and John had arrived in Scarborough, the cook to a rather well-to-do old woman who had died. Her credentials had impressed the both of them, and her cooking had impressed them even more; she'd been hired by the end of the day.

"Good morning, Mrs. Howard," Anna greeted her as they walked through the door.

The older woman turned. "Ah, hello, Mrs. Bates. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you. How was breakfast? No major crises, I take it?"

"None at all." She grinned. "I like this group of guests. Would if we could keep them here forever. Hello, Mr. Bates."

John echoed her greeting, moving to steal a leftover piece of toast. Anna rolled her eyes. There was no point in drawing this out when then they were all very busy, so she said, "Mrs. Howard, I was wondering if you might be able to assist me in clearing up a little dispute between Mr. Bates and I."

Mrs. Howard's eyes widened at that. "Oh, I'm not sure that that kind of thing is really my place. Disagreements should remain between husband and wife, not be broadcast to the wider public. It might be uncomfortable for all involved."

"I shouldn't worry about that," said John through a mouthful of toast. "It's not the kind of question to break a marriage. We had a little disagreement about our son."

"Then I certainly can't comment!" said Mrs. Howard. "It's not my place to interfere with another family's child! My mother-in-law liked to interfere with my Stanley. Nothing irritated me more than that, because he was my son. She'd raised her own boy. She didn't need to interfere with mine."

"No, it's nothing like that at all," Anna said hurriedly, partly because she didn't want Mrs. Howard to grow upset at memories of the son she'd lost, and partly because she and John had both missed out on the opportunity to have their respective mothers push their noses in. "It's a very light-hearted disagreement."

"Yes," John supplied, evidently running out of things to scrounge as he came forward to her side. "I think Jack looks more like Anna. Anna thinks he looks more like me. What do you think?"

Mrs. Howard relaxed visibly, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "Oh, well, in that case, perhaps I can take a look. I've never really thought about it before." She bustled over to where Anna stood holding Jack in her arms, scrutinising his face as if he was the rarest of paintings. Anna waited with bated breath, the first crow of success on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to escape the moment that they were alone…

"Plain as day," Mrs. Howard announced. "Jack looks like you, Mrs. Bates."

Anna's mouth fell open. No, surely not! How could she not see John mirrored straight back at her in Jack's little face? She could feel John's triumphant smile burning into her back. Oh, he would be unbearable now, even with one point on the board.

"Are you sure?" she blurted.

"Come now, Anna, I'm sure Mrs. Howard is very strong in her opinion," said John. She could _hear_ the amusement in his voice. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.

"I was just wondering what made her think it," she returned, trying to keep her tone casual. "Am I not allowed to ask that?"

"Of course you are!" said Mrs. Howard.

It was going to be the blonde hair and the blue eyes, she knew it. People couldn't look past those huge physical traits, so they automatically assumed that Jack was like her. She'd probably change her mind when Anna pointed out all those _other_ traits that made him look like her husband.

"He's got your nose," said Mrs. Howard, ticking a list off on her fingers. "And your ears. Definitely the shape of your eyes as well as the colour. The jaw is unmistakable too. His cheeks are like Mr. Bates', and the bow of his lips, but everything else…" She gave a helpless shrug. "All you, Mrs. Bates."

"Thank you, Mrs. Howard," said John, far too cheerfully. "You've been most helpful indeed. We've got our answer. We'll leave you to your work now. If there's anything you need, we'll be right upstairs."

He took Anna by the arm and guided her from the kitchen. She followed morosely. Maybe she should have disputed what Mrs. Howard had said. Shown her that, actually, those features that she'd mistaken for hers were actually John's. Although, really, how _could_ she have been mistaken? She and John didn't share even one feature between them.

Out of earshot of the kitchen, John said, "Sorry, love, but I did tell you." He tried to make his voice soothing and understanding, but she could tell that he wanted to smile too. Honestly. There was no need to count it as a victory just yet. It was only two against one. Those odds were easily overturned. They could still ask some of the guests, and then there was Mr. Lowe, who took care of the hotel overnight. He should be their next port of call, realistically, so he could head off home. Maybe he'd be so tired that he would automatically agree with her if she guided him in the right direction…

…Or maybe he would take a quick look at Jack's hair and eyes and declare the contrary.

She pouted.

"Cheer up," John said cheerfully. "It's just a friendly wager, remember?"

But there was a definite swagger in his gait as he led her back towards the lobby. Glumly, Anna hitched Jack closer, and followed.

* * *

They found Mr. Lowe in the back office, nursing a cup of tea while he sorted through the morning mail.

"Good morning," John greeted him as he knocked on the door to make his presence known.

"Morning," said the younger man with a smile.

"How was everything last night? No problems?"

"Just one problem with one of the showers, but I think I fixed it for now. You might want to ask Mr. Jepson to give it a check so it doesn't happen again."

"I will," said John. "The mail?"

"A healthy packet of letters. Some look like bills, but I'm sure there are a number of requested bookings in there as well." Mr. Lowe held the bundle out, and John took them, sifting through them. Anna was proud of how their business had taken off. It helped that they had moved in time for the start of the busiest period. They did not have contacts in the area like their competitors did, guests who would return back year after year, but they were not afraid of starting somewhere. The first to trickle in had been the spontaneous guests looking for somewhere to stay overnight after an impromptu decision to stay. They had a prime spot on the sea front, and had started earnest renovations in order to make the place friendlier—even with Jack so young, they'd managed admirably, just like they had in the old days when they had redecorated their lovely, dilapidated cottage. In no time at all it had been turned into an attractive spot, and, well, who didn't like the idea of a proper homely inn, run by a tight-knit, loving husband and wife with a beautiful child? Anna had been worried that perhaps they wouldn't be accepted into the little community, outsiders coming in and succeeding nicely, but there had been no resentment; the rivalry between the business did not supersede the sense of community that human nature could inspire. It made such a welcome change to Anna. To them _both_. They had both seen more than their fair share of human ugliness during their lives.

Business was yet to boom, but Anna was confident that it would, in time. They had set firm foundations, and she could see it stretching into the future, a legacy for Jack. For their _children_ , she hoped. It was a hope for tomorrow.

"Get yourself off home now," said John, breaking through Anna's thoughts. "And thank you for your hard work last night. I'll see you later."

"Thank you, Mr. Bates," said Mr. Lowe. He downed the rest of his drink and pushed his chair back. Swinging on his coat, he donned his hat too and made to leave. This was her opportunity.

"Just before you go, Mr. Lowe," she said, trying on her sweetest smile, "I wonder if you would answer me something?"

He blinked at her curiously. "I can try."

"If you had to choose," she said, bringing Jack round, "who would you say that Jack looks more like? Me or Mr. Bates?"

"That's a random question. I don't know if I'm any good with that kind of thing," Mr. Lowe tried to defer. "When my sister had a baby, it just looked like a wrinkled, squalling peanut. Everyone kept insisting that the baby had got our family's looks, but I couldn't see the distinctions. So I'm not sure I'm the best man for this…"

"Just give it a try," she coaxed. "Jack's not a new born, so maybe it will be a little easier."

Mr. Lowe screwed up his nose in resignation. "Right, let's see." He fell silent for a full minute, studying their son with a look of intense concentration. At last he announced, "I think he looks like you, Mrs. Bates."

Anna's heart sank. John leaned against his cane and smirked at her over the younger man's shoulder.

"That's what I thought," he said. "But Anna disagreed."

Mr. Lowe shot her a quizzical look, as if he couldn't quite believe that a mother wouldn't see the own resemblance in her son. "Did you?"

"I see Mr. Bates in him, yes," she muttered. There was no need to ask the other man to elaborate. He'd probably only say what Mrs. Howard had before him. How? _How_ did they see it?

"Oh," said Mr. Lowe, as if he thought her strange for saying so. "Well, I suppose the world looks differently to everyone. Like I said, I'm not really the right person for this kind of thing. Is there anything else you need me for?"

"No, that will be all, thank you," said John. "Go home and have a good rest. I'll pop my head in later tonight and see how you are."

Mr. Lowe nodded. "Good day," he said, tipping his hat, and was gone.

"Don't pout," John teased her gently.

"I'm not," she pouted.

He only laughed, reaching out to stroke his index finger down Jack's chubby cheek.

"Cheer your mummy up," he said. "She's feeling a little down in the mouth because she's wrong."

"I'm _not_ wrong," she said instantly. "I can claw this back. You just see if I don't."

"If you say so," said John. "And I will believe it when I see it."

Jack laughed, and tried to grab her nose.

* * *

It had been one disastrous encounter after another. Anna had been so certain that everyone would see things through her eyes, but that wasn't the case. Mrs. Howard and Mr. Lowe had both said that Jack looked like her. The guests had agreed with her. Each and every one of them, from the young Mr. and Mrs. Fairley, to the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Hart. In desperation, she had even discreetly asked the grocer and the postmaster when she had nipped out alone to carry out some errands, and they hadn't backed her either. Painful as it was, she finally had to concede defeat to herself.

How was it possible that so many could see what she couldn't?

* * *

"Come on, Anna, you're supposed to be magnanimous in defeat. Isn't that what they tell sporting stars?"

Anna braided her hair with a little more vigour than was necessary, frowning at the wall where John couldn't see her. There was nothing on earth worse than being proven wrong about something, especially something as important as this.

There was movement behind her, and in the next moment John's arms slid around her waist from behind, his head nuzzling into her shoulder as he placed kisses against her neck.

"John, don't," she said weakly, pushing at him half-heartedly. She felt him smile against her skin, and he snugged her tighter against him.

"You know, you're still pouting," he said. "And you pouting just makes me want to kiss you. Your mouth is very hard to resist, Mrs. Bates."

She rolled her eyes at his pitiful flirting, unable to stop herself from melting against him anyway. Damn the man. He always knew exactly how to win her round; she could never be cross at him for long.

"Go and get in bed," she said.

"Not without you," he murmured, tugging lightly on her hips.

"I'm coming in a minute."

"I'm holding you to it. I won't be able to sleep without you beside me." He kissed her neck one more time before reluctantly pulling away. She fussed with her dressing table until she knew he was settled.

"Turn the lamp off," she murmured.

She could hear the frown in his voice. "I'll wait until you get into bed. Wouldn't want you banging your shins on anything."

"I think I know my way around this room well enough to avoid all hazards, Mr. Bates."

He sighed. "Fine. Have it your way."

The room was flooded with darkness at once. Anna stayed where she was until her eyes had adapted to the change, then made her way to the bed, pulling the covers back and sliding in beside her husband. With a sigh, she settled herself down, not turning away from him, yet somehow unable to touch him too.

"Anna?"

"I'm all right," she said. "Just tired." It sounded hollow even to her own ears.

John shifted beside her, turning onto his left side so that he was facing her, even though he wouldn't be able to see her.

"It's nothing," she added.

"It's something," he said.

She huffed, making a show of getting more comfortable. All the while, her mind whirred.

Why? Why was she acting like this? She was being ridiculous. Petty, even. It wasn't something to get upset over. It simply was what it was.

And yet…

She'd teased John about wanting to see her in their son because it was what he wanted; he was looking at it through rose-tinted glasses and was choosing to see what he wanted to see. But apparently, that was _her_.

"Anna?"

"I'm being silly," she told John firmly. This time, she put her arm around him, snuggling closer, finding his mouth in the darkness. The kiss was sweet and lovely, but John pulled away too quickly for her liking. He rubbed her hipbone with his thumb.

"You know that you can tell me anything, don't you?" he whispered. "And I'm sorry if I gloated a little bit today. But it's such a rare thing that I am actually right about something and you are wrong…I couldn't help revelling in it a little."

"It's a daft thing for me to sulk over," she said. "I don't know what came over me."

"You do know. Please, Anna, tell me."

She was silent for a moment, before relenting. "Isn't that what every proud parent wants? To see their husband or wife reflected back at them?"

"I can agree with that," he conceded. "And I got what I wanted. But I don't understand why you're so upset. Jack's got the better end of the deal having so many of your genes. He's going to be the most handsome man about town, mark my words."

"I suppose I was just so caught up in the idea of looking at Jack and seeing you looking right back at me," she sighed. "It would have been lovely."

And it was more than that too. Something that she didn't want to even think of herself, never mind give a voice to. And certainly not something she liked to think about when John was so healthy, so full of life.

But it was an inescapable fact nevertheless.

The likeliness of John dying before her was high. At one time, she had been afraid that she would be left behind with nothing, all alone to face her grief. She'd borne being separated from him before, but that separation had always been made easier by knowing that he was alive, if not happy. Death was finite, erasing all chances of ever meeting again, at least in this life.

Now she had Jack. She would no longer be alone. How wonderful would it have been to look over at him after John was gone to see her husband staring right back at her, alive in the face of her son? Jack would never be a replacement. They were two separate people. But to see the remains of the man she had loved in the face of their boy…

If Jack looked like her, it meant that she would see nothing reflected back at her. Not the colour of John's hair or that beautiful shade of his eyes. Not even their shape, or his nose. He would live on through his son, but she wanted to _see_ some of it too. It would have been painful, at first, if her son looked so much like her husband, but in time it would have comforted her. Now she would never have it.

Lord, she was maudlin this evening.

She would not tell him. At least not tonight. She wanted to end the evening on a happy note, not one brought on by old insecurities. It was something that would, hopefully, not come to pass for many, many more years. Why dwell on something so far in advance? Right now, her husband was there, right beside her, warm and firm, so very, very comforting. As he always had been. His hand was strong on her back, and she moved in to kiss him, feeling his lips curve into a smile beneath her mouth.

"I just don't like being proven wrong," she said. "It's not something I'm used to. And to be beaten so emphatically…"

"It's a good thing we didn't wager with money, isn't it?" said John sagely. "I would have made quite the bundle."

"Since I'm sure I would have received it back in gifts, I can't say I would feel the loss too keenly. Besides, what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours."

"True. And you don't know how wonderful it is to be right for a change. It ought to be a thing that happens more often, you know. Soothes a man's soul."

"I'm not sure I can stretch to that," she said, moving in to kiss him. "Women _do_ know best, it's the unspoken rule of society, much as men don't want to acknowledge it."

John rolled onto his back, tugging on her hips. She relented with a smile, settling herself over him, her hands each side of his head on the pillow. She'd always liked this position, in charge of him. He was silent for a moment.

"I know it's a disappointment for you that Jack doesn't look like me," he said.

"Disappointment is the wrong word," she protested. "Jack could _never_ disappoint me. It was just a dream, is all. A dream that we'd have a miniature you at our heels, making all of the girls coo over him."

"Well, at least be pleased for your old husband. I can sit here and be so proud that my son has inherited the features of the loveliest woman in the world. What you wanted is no different to what I wanted. I just happened to get lucky. But at least we know there's a possible solution."

"Is there?" said Anna, crinkling her brow.

Feigning shock, he said, "You mean, you don't know? A woman who knows best doesn't know the solution to this problem?"

"I don't. Now, stop being so maddening and please talk in plain English."

"Oh, this has got nothing to do with English. More to do with…biology."

She was suddenly acutely aware of the way that he was pressing up against her, his hands sneaking below the hem of her nightgown.

"Mr. Bates!" she said, trying and failing to sound scandalised.

"What? It's obvious. You want a child that looks like me. There's only one way to achieve that. We'll need to have our houseful and hope that at least one of the poor mites inherits my looks, for your sake. Who's to say that our second child won't look like me? Or our third? Or dare I say our fourth?"

"Gracious," she managed as he moved his lips to her neck, sucking the skin between his teeth in the most deliciously rousing way. "Who says there's even enough time left to get four?"

"I say we have a good chance," he mumbled between his ministrations, his hands pushing her nightgown higher and higher up her body as she squirmed. "We'll never know until we try. And there's no time like the present to do just that."

He'd tugged the nightgown clean off her in the next moment. As he flipped them over so that he was hovering above her, pressing her so wonderfully into the mattress with his weight as his hands set to work on her newly accessible breasts, Anna thought hazily that it really was the best solution to the problem.


End file.
